Rest and Let Go
by clair-de-neptune
Summary: "My love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses..." It's been three years since Aurora's awakening, and all is well, but Maleficent cannot get rid of the excruciating guilt that plagues her, that shadows her at every turn. And Aurora knows something is wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Three years.

* * *

Three years had passed since Aurora's awakening, and a wrenching, knotted thing twisted in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of it.

And no matter how hard Maleficent tried to untangle her guilt, it stayed right in place, squirming _just enough _for her to feel it.

It twitched when she watched Aurora come running to her with open arms. It tugged when she sat leaning against a tree, observing Aurora playing merrily with the creatures of the Moors. It jerked when Aurora beamed to Maleficent with her innocent, beautiful smile.

It absolutely _writhed _when Aurora called her _godmother_.

Through years of practice, Maleficent was always able to maintain her ever-constant, elegant, conservative composure. When she became aware of something awry in her emotions, she focused all of her attention to concealing it—to smoothing it out like the wrinkles in her robes as if it were seamless, not even noticeable. And eventually, it would come to the point that not even Maleficent herself could distinguish her problems from the rest of her mind, and it all would blend together as one, and became a part of her.

Aurora brought all of those wrinkles to light again with her smile, her laughter, her happiness—and it gnawed at Maleficent just like the guilt that rolled about restlessly in her gut.

Through years of practice, Maleficent was always able to distinguish things quite clearly. If she was feeling one thing, she could quickly identify precisely what it was, act upon it however she wished, and move on without worry or fear. The time when she helped the dryads restore their trees after a lightning storm? Kindness. Concern. When Balthazar accidentally tripped her with his lance? Forgiveness. Levity.

When Stefan stole her wings, and she cursed his child when she was just a babe? Anger. Hatred.

Revenge.

The guilt that accompanied itself with Aurora's presence was not easily classified and acquainted to one event. Maleficent tried—God knows she _tried_ to figure out the source of the guilt, address it, and move on, but _she couldn't_. It was a jumble of things that clattered about uselessly in her thoughts, and only frustrated her further, and after what seemed to be hours of wrangling with it, she would sigh in defeat, and it would quietly continue to triumphantly wriggle in her abdomen.

The days that Aurora was in the human kingdom gave her the most time to dwell on this guilt, and she was not sure if she appreciated it or not. It was another uncertainty that nipped at her heels. On one end of the spectrum, she missed Aurora. She longed for her light laughter to fill the air of the Moors and her radiance to delight the fae-folk, but when she came to the Moors, Maleficent struggled with the unidentifiable discomfort that lay flat against the barriers of her mind, chuckling at her confusion, _snickering _at her anxiety.

And when Aurora was gone, she was given the time to fight back and an attempt to assess it. The guilt drew back its relentless attack just a bit, and she was given grace to breathe and recollect.

By the time she achieved such a state, however, Aurora would return, and the cycle would repeat all over again.

* * *

It was growing to the point to where even _Diaval_ said something about it, and _that_ on its own was enough to bother her even more.

The three of them—Aurora, Maleficent, and Diaval—were sitting near a little brook that branched off of the main river that flowed through the Moors. Aurora, as her usual, was frolicking with the water nymphs that danced happily, their steps causing patches of vibrant pinks and violets to bloom upon the surface of the water.

Maleficent, as _her _usual, sat a small ways away, observing Aurora attempting to mimic the nymphs' dance (much to the nymphs' delight). It was always a matter of time before Diaval joined in with Aurora, and then it was only Maleficent that watched as both the girl and the bird made noises of glee.

The faery hardly laughed, but that didn't mean she wasn't happy.

It was like that, for a time. Maleficent, able to press the guilt down so that it stilled, enjoyed the brightness that Aurora exuded from her movements, her smile, her eyes, and her laughter. _This_, Maleficent mused, _is where I am most pleased—watching her simply _be.

Upon that thought coming to light, the corners of her mouth lifted upwards into a very small, very genuine smile.

Aurora's giggles filled the air and disrupted Maleficent's pondering, but it didn't bother her too much. Just the sound of it was enough to make her heart swell a bit—even if she was still pushing down on her alien discomfort with all her might.

Maleficent's face softened as Aurora turned to her. _Child of the dawn, indeed._

_"Oh, Godmother—!"_

Suddenly, the arms of Maleficent's resistance gave as the knot of guilt wildly thrashed in her gut, its maniacal, mocking laughter ringing in her ears: _Ha! Ha, ha, _ha! _Godmother! Godmother, of all things!_

The muscles in the faery's neck tightened as her eyes grew wide and she visibly _flinched_, _flinched _because of the abrupt emotional pain that flared up inside of her from one silly, stupid _word_.

At the sight of Aurora's frown of confusion, the ball of guilt grew immediately as it lashed about like an iron flail. Maleficent swallowed and closed her eyes, cursing this idiotic _feeling _that caused Aurora to think she was upset with her. _Please, my beastie, _she wanted to plead, _I didn't mean that._ The ugly tendrils of her discomfort quickly tangled themselves around the faery's lungs and throat, however, and for a few seconds she sat there, unable to breathe and unable to speak.

It seemed then that all of the Moors fell into a death-like silence.

A quiet _caw-caw? _from Diaval jolted Maleficent out of her shock, and with a deep breath, she looked at her sweet, sweet Aurora and forced a smile. Her wings twitched nervously. "No worries, little beastie," she said calmly, "I was lost far in thought. You startled me."

Aurora only gave Maleficent a nod and a quick flash of concern that darted across her deep blue irises before she went back to her usual with the creatures of the Moors. Diaval, however, noticed much more than Maleficent wished that he did, and after confirming that Aurora was distracted, he fluttered over to her side and nudged at her until she acquiesced to his incessant cawing.

"Into a man," she sighed, and Diaval crossed his legs as he sat next to her.

"Are you…" he licked his lips nervously, knowing that Maleficent didn't like being directly asked about her feelings, "are you okay?"

Her wings rustled again as she replied, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about."

"I'm afraid to tell you that I don't."

Diaval glared at her. "Don't play that game with me."

"What game?"

He glanced quickly at Aurora to check she wasn't listening, and then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Look, _that _just a couple of minutes ago? _That _wasn't a response from the Maleficent that I know. _That _wasn't normal, and all I'm trying to say is that I'm here if you want to talk_._"

Maleficent blinked. "Diaval, from many years of experience, I know exactly what is normal of me, and what is not—" and then she added with a sarcastic tone, "—and quite plainly, I don't know why you concern your location with my ability to speak." Diaval opened his mouth to protest, but with a flick of her wrist and a few words, she turned him back into a raven as an indication that she did not wish to discuss it further.

It only indicated to Diaval, however, that whatever caused Maleficent to jump at Aurora's term of endearment like she had been branded by iron was that it _truly_ bothered her.

With the faery's quick splitting of the conversation, Diaval knew all he could do now was to watch and make sure she kept her head above the water.


	2. Chapter 2

Aurora had seen many things.

She had seen the fantastic, supernatural beauty of the Moors. She had seen the playfulness of the fae-folk. She had seen her three faery-aunties fail miserably (and rather humorously) at cooking. She had seen Maleficent's detached wings trapped in a dusty cage. She had seen Maleficent suffer burns from iron just for her protection. She had seen Diaval transform into a fierce, fire-breathing dragon. She had seen her father's dead body lay flat on the stone of the castle grounds (which, oddly enough, didn't disturb her as much as she thought it would).

Aurora, however, had never seen Maleficent scared before.

She wasn't quite sure what she had done to see Maleficent's eyes snap open wide with fear at the sound of godmother. It was strange to think—Aurora had called Maleficent 'godmother' many a time, but never had this kind of reaction been elicited from the faery until now.

They thought her inattentive, Diaval and Maleficent. But in reality, Aurora perhaps had seen the most of all from those few seconds.

She had seen Maleficent's flawless, elegant, swan-like throat tighten as if it were being strangled; she had seen Maleficent's irises darken with shock and her pupils shrink; she had seen Maleficent's entire body jerk as if it had been struck by lightning; and, most of all, she had seen something foreign there, a squirming, painful thing that dug its sharp talons into her heart, burning her like daggers of iron.

Immediately, Aurora worried for her. She longed to rush forward to Maleficent and embrace her, to tell her that she was going to be alright, but Aurora knew better—she knew that such a display of open shock and hurt was embarrassing for the consistently conservative, strong, quiet faery, and that it would only agitate her inner conflict more if she reacted instantaneously. She settled for instead, then, giving her a quick glance of concern and left her alone.

Maleficent needed her space. Maleficent needed time to gather herself, Aurora knew. She was not used to direct acts of comfort. It had to be slowly eased to her, given to her bit by bit until she could trust the person that was attempting to help her.

Aurora didn't need to be told that the last time Maleficent had trusted someone so quickly, her greatest treasure was stolen away—her wings. It was going to take time for Maleficent to be able to open up to someone like that again, and to not have the fear that she would be betrayed.

And Aurora was willing to wait.

They thought her inattentive, Diaval and Maleficent. She laughed inwardly to herself as she returned to the delighted fae-folk. No, she was the most attentive of them all. And while she listened to Diaval try to convince Maleficent to tell him what was wrong, and while she confirmed Maleficent's expected defensive reply, Aurora knew above all things that she was willing to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

The following days that Maleficent flew alone were some of her darkest.

She was not ungrateful or regretful of having her wings back, _heavens no._ She did not think anyone could possibly begin to understand how much her wings meant to her. They were as vital as her thumping heart that pumped blood through her body, or her lungs that expanded in her chest with each breath. Without them, she was incomplete.

Without them, she had felt as though she was beginning to die.

But with this new, invasive _guilt _that plagued her, it became a very discomforting thing to fly. She would lift herself high in the air above the clouds so that the only company she had was the sun, and suddenly her thoughts became amplified in her mind—as though the quiet, mocking whispers turned into loud, direct snickering and teasing, and it latched upon her ankles like heavy weights that wished to drag her out of the sky.

It was impossible to ignore.

Sometimes, she would look at the sun—

_—Before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday—_

_ —Aurora—_

—_into a sleep-like death!—_

_—Child of the dawn, indeed—_

—and cringed at the memories it brought to light with its radiance.

_Oh, Godmother—!_

_Godmother, _it laughed coldly, _the very woman who cursed an innocent child, to be called _'Godmother'_—_it would then thrash about uncomfortably—_oh, the irony of it all!_

It was in those long, solitary flights that she learned the most about her guilt.

She could only take so much of it at once before it became utterly overwhelming, and Maleficent would descend back to the earth as quickly as her wings could carry her.

* * *

Aurora learned many things about Maleficent's wings.

_"They were strong," the faery had told her quietly,_ _"I could trust them."_

In the months when she returned back to the castle in the human kingdom, thoughts of Maleficent occupied her mind more often than the concerns of the stale, double-chinned nobles that pestered her about things she did not care about. It quickly became second nature to explain that _no, _the guards were _not _allowed to have iron weapons, and that _yes_, she decreed that absolutely _no merchants _were allowed to set up mills in the Moors, and while her mouth automatically knew exactly what it needed to do, she could think of other things without the two intertwining.

Strangely enough, it was in these moments that Aurora had the most time to think of Maleficent.

_Aurora understood._ She understood more than anyone how much Maleficent cherished her wings. When she entered that old, forgotten room with cobwebs nestled in its corners, when she saw Maleficent's wings flailing wildly in their dusty, confined cage, thumping against the sides like a feathered heart, longing to spread and expand like a pair of lungs—

_Aurora understood._

_"I could trust them."_

Maleficent had only trusted one thing in the world with her entire heart, and when they were stolen from her, King Stefan had stolen Maleficent's ability to _trust._

Aurora _understood_ that she had given back Maleficent's ability to place delicate emotions into someone else's hands, and that no matter how little the faery displayed it, Aurora knew that it could only grow.

_Aurora understood._

_ And Aurora would wait._

* * *

When Aurora was separated from Maleficent, her nightmares were the most vivid.

Some nights, she would awaken in her dream just like she had awoken from her cursed slumber, but everything around her was _black_. She _knew _her eyes were open, and she could _hear _Maleficent, but she saw _nothing_. Desperately, she would begin to cry, _"Godmother! Godmother—!"_

_"Maleficent!"_

And when she cried out the faery's true name, her vision returned—but instead of her beloved Protector hovering above her, it was _Philip_—the boy she barely even knew—smiling, eyes sparkling—but Maleficent was nowhere to be found, and as he tried to lean in for another kiss, Aurora would shove him away with all her might and scream,

_"Maleficent!"_

Other nights, Aurora would dream of Maleficent taking to the air, using her strong, powerful, unfaltering wings to propel herself high into the heavens—and for a few moments, Aurora would revel in the beauty and _happiness_ Maleficent gracefully displayed, the _freedom _that she exuded. For what seemed like hours she would watch her fly: slicing through white, misty clouds; diving down like a swan, and then shooting upwards as though she was breaking the surface; twisting and twirling, creating some sort of physical representation of everything _joyful_.

And then, Maleficent would suddenly stop as though she was pierced by a lance, and she would begin to _fall._

She fell without trying to save herself, seemingly unable of moving her body or wings, and she dropped like a stone, wind whistling as her form was plucked out of the sky.

Aurora tried. Aurora tried so many times to _go _to her, to somehow catch her in her arms and grant her a safe passage back down to the ground, but her body was frozen. She could only watch as the sky never met the earth, and Maleficent perpetually plunged _down _until Aurora woke up.

The maids and nurses fretted over her. They tried to bring her popular human remedies—lavender tea, a wet washcloth over her forehead—but none of them worked, even though Aurora told them that the hot tea and wet cloth worked just to make them leave.

She often speculated the cause of these nightmares. Aurora knew that they grew more prominent as time went on, and especially after the incident with the water nymphs, the dreams grew more frantic, more desperate, more _real_.

It scared Aurora, but she would not let it overcome her.


	4. Chapter 4

"Come _on,_ Diaval!" Aurora laughed as her horse galloped across the fields that led to the Moors. Diaval cawed happily in reply.

Whenever she began to approach the Moors, Aurora's mind filled with all things _glad._ She thought of the delight of the creatures at her arrival, the untouched, balanced beauty of the wind and earth and sky, the rustling of the trees, the comforting sounds of the plants and all who lived there, and most of all,

_She thought of Maleficent._

The perfect tranquility of the Moors seemed to make all of her fears and memories of nightmares slowly dissipate until they were naught but a speck of dust that floated in the air. All she could think about was simply _being_, and more importantly,

_Being_ with Maleficent.

They reached the tree line that marked where the human kingdom ended and the Moors began. Aurora slowed and dismounted, barely being able to contain herself as Diaval playfully cawed for her to slow down. She was the Queen of two united lands—_a very important position_, she thought, _and I am acting like a child, hiking up my skirts as I run._

Aurora smiled. She didn't care.

Her father, amidst his growing craze to have Maleficent's head and his paranoia, left her with a disheveled, corrupt kingdom to fix with fattened, selfish officials that constantly tried to push her around with "important ladylike conduct" and "matters of the state" (the only _matters _they talked about benefited _themselves_ anyways).

To be able to escape for a month or two, to be able to return to simple peace and serenity—Aurora was going to erase all her worries from her mind, enjoy herself and the fae-folk, and, most of all, break all the rules of "ladylike conduct" that she _wanted_ to, damnit.

A towering tree-like figure shifted from the corner of her eye. "Balthazar!" Aurora called.

Balthazar turned—_crack, crack—_and upturned his stiff wooden features into a smile.

She rushed over to him and embraced his earthy form (and the dirt and moss that came along with it). "I haven't seen you in so long! How have you been?"

Balthazar's voice rumbled as he spoke._"__Dokathu, hnu ma corta. Ha mokata?"__Thank you, I am most content, my Queen. And yourself?_

Aurora picked up on the languages of the fae-folk very quickly. She took it upon herself to learn them as the Queen, yes—but she wanted to learn long before she took the throne—simply because she wished to be able to _laugh_ and _sing_ and _talk_ and _know _the creatures of the Moors.

Aurora shook her head and smiled. _"__Payr, ar fda, gura la 'Aurora', Balthazar." __Please, for the last time, call me 'Aurora', Balthazar._

A sigh sprinkled with dirt and bits of moss escaped into the air. _"Vara, ra Heari."_ _Yes, your Majesty._

Giggles scampered out of Aurora's throat. _"Nari he parei awbr!"_ _None of that either!_

Balthazar's chest, which was made of large, knotty branches and roots that intertwined with each other, cracked loudly as it moved to produce rumbling, deep laughter. Aurora herself couldn't help but burst into a fit of chuckling as well; her laughter spread like rays of the sun, drawing out other creatures hidden in the bushes and trees.

"Quite a _popular_ little beastie, aren't you?"

Aurora turned to the familiar, cool, calm voice, and when her eyes found the faery's face, she beamed. "Godmother!"

As soon as the word slipped past her lips, a short flash of regret and worry darted through her. It came out of her mouth so _habitually_, she had nearly forgotten what happened the last time Aurora had called Maleficent 'godmother'—she didn't want Maleficent to be hurt again.

However, it seemed that the faery was prepared for it, and she showed barely any signs of discomfort; all Aurora could pick up was a quick, nervous twitch of her wings, accompanied by a small, strained smile.

She chose to pretend to ignore it, for fear of discomforting or embarrassing Maleficent. "Shall we?"

The faery nodded silently, and gave a soft gesture of her hand towards the forest. _Come with me, _she said without words.

Aurora's deep blue irises gleamed. _Of course_, they replied.

* * *

They walked on in silence, save for Aurora's quick exchanges with the fae-folk in their native languages (something Maleficent was consistently impressed with—no human had ever attempted or successfully learned the many languages of the fae-folk). Maleficent wanted to speak, start up some sort of easy, quiet conversation—something_—anything, _but her ever-present knot of guilt housed itself in her throat today, instead.

Did Aurora sense this? Maleficent couldn't tell.

She was working on untangling it, even though the process was quite painstaking and more painful than she expected. As she tried with all her concentration to work the lump of tangled tendrils apart, it caused her to backtrack into memories she did not wish to venture further into—parts of her past that reared their ugly heads and hissed in her face.

Yet through all of this, Maleficent finally figured out a very small portion of where this guilt sourced itself from.

Aurora reminded Maleficent of herself as a young faery—a being that embraced nature, loved others—a being that was helping and careful and _kind_—

—and all throughout Aurora's childhood, as she watched from a distance, she couldn't help but think of how much Aurora was like a mirror—

—and how much she was not.

Aurora mirrored all of Maleficent's good, compassionate qualities as a child. She showed it in the way that she interacted with the fae-folk, in the constant presence of happiness that hovered around her, and in her constant consideration of others.

This only magnified Maleficent's memory of her wrathful spite, and how it was so unlike the person she once was.

It made her feel incredibly, _incredibly _guilty_._

"Maleficent?"

The faery was pulled out of her faraway pondering by the sound of Aurora quietly murmuring her name. She realized where they had ended up walking to: the little brook that the water nymphs danced in.

"Yes?" Maleficent answered steadily, careful to not let any emotion acquainted with her recent thoughts slip out with her words. It was unusual for walks as long as the one they had just taken to be as quiet as it had been, and immediately she braced herself for a prodding question that would pierce through Maleficent too fast.

A list of excuses and vague responses ran through her mind instantaneously: _There is nothing wrong with me, beastie. I just took a very long flight, and I am rather tired. I cannot tell you, Aurora. You must wait until you are a bit older._

"Can you braid my hair?"

Maleficent's heart swelled with gratefulness and began to bleed as it grew so much, it tore against the sharp talons of guilt that clutched her heart so tightly. _Such a simple request_, Maleficent cried out in her mind, _she could ask _anything_ she wished of me, and I would do it— _

_—and all she wants of me is to braid her beautiful, golden hair._

* * *

Aurora carefully studied Maleficent's face.

It softened immensely as soon as her question escaped her lips.

Was that relief?

_It was. Aurora was _sure _of it._

She smiled as she sat down in front of Maleficent, cross-legged, and heard the faery kneel down behind her. Thin, strong fingers began to weave themselves through her hair, and Aurora's eyes fluttered closed to the soothing feeling of Maleficent's touch.

Another smile graced Aurora's face as she noted the slow pace in which Maleficent was lacing her hair. Was she doing that on _purpose?_

_Not that I mind,_ Aurora thought.

It was like that, for a time. Growing slightly drowsy by Maleficent's gentle touch, Aurora settled and gazed upon the tiny stream, and as the sun set, the water nymphs returned to light up the night with vibrant violets, pinks, and reds. Aurora lit up at their arrival and communicated with them in their language of _clicks _and _clacks_ (it was not very complicated, mostly because they were very simple creatures with very simple happiness).

A question crossed Aurora's mind. "Maleficent, do faeries of your kind have their own language?"

The fingers in her hair suddenly stilled, and anxiousness crept through Aurora's veins. _Did she say something wrong?_

"Not exactly," Maleficent began to explain as her fingers resumed their work. Aurora released a breath she was formerly unaware of holding. "Faeries such as I are too few and far between to develop our own language."

"So, what do you have, then?"

"Specific words of our own," Maleficent replied, and Aurora heard something genuine there.

"Teach me some," she said quietly.

Maleficent tied the intricate braid and moved her hands to the grass. "Well, there's _yera,_ which means _friend._"

"_Ye-ra,"_ Aurora repeated. "_Yera."_

"Good," the faery praised. Aurora heard the soft plucking of something off the ground, and she found that Maleficent's hands had returned to her hair. What was she doing?

Aurora noticed the vast amount of pale blue flowers that carpeted the area around the brook. _She's putting flowers in my hair?_

For some reason, the very notion of Maleficent doing something so intimate made her heart beat faster in her chest, and a rush of blood ran to her cheeks. She was especially thankful then that Maleficent couldn't see her face.

"Then there's _ura—_that's _mother._ _Uri_—that's _father_."

"_U-ra_," she pronounced, _"Ura. U-ri. Uri."_

She could feel the faery relax. "And then there's…" Her voice trailed off unexpectedly.

Aurora waited patiently.

_Aurora would wait. She would always wait._

The sound of an uneven inhale met Aurora's ears, and then Maleficent finished, "_Sera._ That means _my heart."_

"_Sera._"

Aurora very much liked how that rolled off of her tongue.

"Good," Maleficent responded, but her voice was far away and empty.

_I will wait. I will always wait._

Without looking behind her, Aurora slowly leaned back into Maleficent's chest, and sighed at the feeling of the faery's warmth seeping into her back. She felt the faery stiffen a little. Was she nervous? Upset?

Scared?

_Bit by bit, _Aurora thought, _her trust will come back_.

"Thank you for braiding my hair."

A silence.

Aurora didn't mind. She knew Maleficent. With her, some things did not need to be spoken.

Softness tickled her fair skin. Maleficent's strong wings had moved around them both, not encasing them entirely, but just enough for her to reach out and touch them.

_Some things just didn't need to be spoken._


	5. Chapter 5

They developed a routine after that.

When Aurora was finished greeting the fae-folk (and sometimes giving in to their urges for her to play with them), the sun would begin its descent in the sky. Maleficent and Aurora would then take a quiet walk, both comfortable with not wishing to exchange words, and instead observed the fiery oranges and reds that burned in the heavens, and listened to the nocturnal creatures of the Moors awaken.

Their path always led them back to the brook with the little water nymphs, and there they would sit, no words spoken, watching the nymphs gleefully dance on the surface of the water.

And Maleficent would braid Aurora's hair.

It was bound to become unraveled as she walked through the Moors each day, with all the creatures playing with her and touching her (they especially liked to grab hold of her dress) and what not. By the end of the day, all the braids had fallen, and Aurora would gently ask Maleficent to do it again.

_Not that I mind_, Maleficent thought.

It was just as soothing for the faery as much as it was for Aurora. When she ran her fingers through her fair, golden strands, she _lost _herself in them—in a good way. Untangling Aurora's hair and weaving it together caused Maleficent to forget—forget her alien pain, her strange guilt—and left her to focus on something so simply _small_.

And it made her feel at peace.

She was sure Aurora noticed by now that she purposefully went slowly. In all honesty, she could have Aurora's hair finished in but a few minutes, but at the pace Maleficent went, it took an hour or two.

And Aurora didn't seem to mind.

It was only when Maleficent tied off the braid that the guilt began to creep back into her mind, and to ward it off, she took up the task of carefully plucking flowers off of the forest floor and arranging them in Aurora's hair. She thought, too, that the pale blue blossoms matched Aurora's eyes, and on the days when they _did _stay in her hair, Maleficent's heart raced a little faster in her chest.

She was beautiful.

Unfortunately, as her heart struggled to beat against the claws that clutched it, she became more aware of the confusing pain that plagued her. And as much as she enjoyed the silent evenings with Aurora leaned back against her, she couldn't help but tense as the guilt burned her

_over_

_ and over_

_ and over again._

* * *

"I do not know much about love."

Maleficent blinked, unsure if she had heard Aurora right. She stated it so simply, not as a question or an answer to anything in particular, but just _said_ it, as if she needed to say it for herself.

_Aurora, the child of the dawn, beloved by all—does not know much about love?_

Maleficent looked down at her curiously. They were sitting, as usual, near the stream with the nymphs, Aurora's back pressed to her chest. "What do you mean, beastie?"

She huffed with a small touch of exasperation. The smallest of all smiles graced Maleficent's face.

"I _mean_," Aurora tried to explain, "exactly what I said. I don't know much about love, and it bothers me. I was so sheltered from the rest of the world for the first sixteen years of my life, and I am frustrated that I do not know much of something as common and simple as _love._"

Maleficent stopped breathing for a moment. _Love is common and simple._

_ Love is common and simple?_

Strong, slender fingers tenderly wove themselves back into Aurora's hair. "Well," Maleficent said quietly, "it often helps if you start off with the things that you _do _know."

A fleeting pause filled the conversation, but neither minded. The sounds of nocturnal creatures and the _click-clacks _of the nymphs replaced the gap while Aurora thought.

"I would suppose that there are many kinds of love," Aurora wondered out loud. "I mean, I do not love Diaval in the same way that I love Philip."

The faery tensed at the sound of the prince's name, but she was able to reply calmly, "How do you love them?"

"Diaval is like an older brother—a sibling. I love him like a sister. Philip is a friend, and I love him like friends do."

Two eyebrows arched. "Philip is only a friend to you?"

"Of course," Aurora responded, curious of the slight tone of surprise in Maleficent's voice. "And I love the Moors—" she paused again, thinking carefully, "—I love the Moors and all the creatures in it as if they were my family."

"Well, then," Maleficent murmured softly, her voice nearly inaudible, "it seems that you know much of love already."

Aurora shook her head. "No, I _don't._ I don't know anything about—" she gestured with her hands as words failed her.

"It's okay, beastie," Maleficent said soothingly, "don't grow too bothered over it."

The conversation ceased, and they resumed observing the night come to life around them. Bugs that glowed of all colors floated in the air, and crickets that hid in the bushes and in the undergrowth played their songs. The water nymphs' elegant steps upon the water caused it to vibrate, creating soft, tinkling, bell-like sounds that echoed off of the trees.

Maleficent's fingers remained in Aurora's hair, delicately caressing the golden strands. Aurora hummed quietly with contentment.

All was well.

And for the first time, Maleficent could not feel the pain that her guilt caused her.

* * *

"I'll be back soon," Aurora reassured, "two months' time is all."

Maleficent silently nodded, but Aurora could sense a growing anxiety that gathered around the faery. Her posture said that she was not bothered, but her golden-green eyes and twitching wings testified against it.

"The human kingdom needs you," Maleficent said steadily. "I know you cannot stay here forever."

Aurora mounted her horse. A longing swirled within her irises. "How I wish I could."

* * *

Aurora was beginning to lose her last nerve with these men.

As soon as she arrived at the castle, a messenger told her that the court officials wanted to host a meeting with her as soon as possible—giving her absolutely no time to relax—and as soon as her handmaidens cleaned her up, she was directed to a room of the castle with a long, stone table and high-backed chairs in the center. The room had barely any windows (much to Aurora's dismay—windows helped relieve her claustrophobia and calmed her down), and the light offered by the candles lit around the room created hard, cold shadows that did nothing to comfort her.

Upon her entrance to the room, the nobles bowed—a gesture Aurora hated. She did not like to feel she was above anyone else just because she was Queen. When commoners tried to bow to her, she insisted that they refrain from doing so. They had worked harder and suffered more than anyone else in the kingdom, and they deserved respect.

They sat down in their seats accordingly, with Aurora at the head of the table. She carefully studied each of their faces and tried to dissect their intentions individually, but all she could find were pallid irises riddled with parasitic greed.

She sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long discussion.

"What news, gentlemen?" It took her all her might to call them _gentlemen_. They were hardly that.

A man with greying hair and a thick beard spoke first; Aurora knew him as Lord Thomas. "Your Majesty, we would like to discuss the current economic situation of the kingdom."

Aurora had a sneaking suspicion of what this would be about, but she would not be rude. "Continue."

"Ah—yes," he cleared his throat and resumed, "we are aware of your policies that are gradually bringing the kingdom back to economic stability—"

Aurora almost let an exasperated sigh escape her mouth. She knew of their game by now. They tried to butter her up by saying how good of a job she was doing, and then they would propose some idiotic decree that undid everything they had described and redistributed the wealth amongst themselves.

And they tried to make it sound appealing, but Aurora knew much better.

"—however, my fellow lords and I believe that the country would be quickly propelled into prosperity if we established a few lumber mills in the Moors—"

The atmosphere vibrated with tension as Aurora silenced the man with an iron glare. She did not speak for a moment, and no lord in the room dared to interrupt her.

They did not expect that their seemingly delicate, fragile Queen could produce such a fiercely startling expression.

Aurora knew this, and she was damn_ proud_ of herself.

"You know where I stand upon this matter," Aurora said firmly. "No merchant of _any kind_, no mill or industry of _any sort _is to be placed in the Moors."

The man shifted in his chair a bit. "Your Majesty, if I may—I don't think you realize the plethora of trees that the Moors consists of. We would only take a small portion of them: oaks, ash…it would be a great source for rebuilding the kingdom—"

"I don't think _you _realize, Lord Thomas, that what you speak of would be an _abomination_." Aurora was _seething_, and she rose a bit in her chair to further express her anger.

Another man, Lord Adam, quirked an eyebrow. "An abomination? Your Grace, if I may, that seems a bit _exaggerated _for a few _trees_—"

"_A few _'trees'?" Aurora barely noticed her arms shaking on the table, or the heat that emanated from her face. "Allow me to _educate_ you, Lord Adam. Have you ever heard of _hamadryads? Meliai?_"

He shook his head slowly. _Of _course_ not._

"Hamadryads and meliai are tree spirits," she explained, trying to control her rage. "Hamadryads are tied to their homes—_oaks. _Meliai are tied to _ash_ trees." She stared at all of them, and she could see right through their extravagant clothes and medals of war. "Do you know what you would be doing if those trees were cut down?"

"We would be taking their homes?"

Aurora did not blink. "You would kill them."

Aurora could hear the air vibrating wildly around her. She was _one _person against all these foolish _men _who thought they could just _take_ and _take_ and _take_—

"I don't see the problem," Lord Thomas shrugged. "We lost many men in the Battle of the Moors, and King Henry was severely injured. What is the issue with making ends even?"

As soon as his words sailed past his fat, ignorant lips, Aurora _lost_ it.

_"What do you not understand?!"_ she shouted, banging her fist on the cold, stone table. "All you have in your little tiny minds is the _glory _of _yourselves!_ Do you not realize that the Moors were attacked _because _of King Henry's greed and want for everything inside of them? _Fools!_"

A lord opened his mouth in protest, but Aurora wasn't going to have it.

_"Silence!_ The only notion that revolves around your brains is how to _take _and not consider the consequences! Your constant chase for your own gain makes you _repulsive!_"

The table was shocked into dead silence, but the air still trembled with apprehension.

Aurora could hear all of their shriveled hearts beating frantically with fear.

"I will _not_—" Aurora's voice grew threateningly low as she spat at them, "—hear _one more word _about the reckless _raping _and _thieving _of the Moors disguised as royal _economic policy_."

No one dared to speak. Aurora straightened her posture, smiled, and went for the door. "This meeting is hereby dismissed," Aurora announced, "and I hope you've learned a thing or two."


	6. Chapter 6

Maleficent held up her hand threateningly. "Diaval, if you try to throw mud at me _one more time_…"

"What?" he smirked, one hand behind his back. "Are you going to turn me into some bizarre creature?"

"A mutt, if I have to." Her golden-green eyes glinted with mischief. "Or _worse_."

Diaval considered it. Was it worth being turned into a dog for? He looked at Maleficent—her warning gaze held strong.

He smiled, and the fat glob of mud that he held dripping behind his back hurled into the air.

Maleficent dodged.

_Some _of it.

Diaval burst into laughter as an expression of utter shock and disgust etched itself onto Maleficent's face, which was hilariously partially-plastered in mud. It _completely _ruined Maleficent's air of conservative regality. _That was _so _worth it._

"You asked for it," Maleficent muttered, and flicked her wrist. "Into a mealie-worm."

Before Diaval could protest, gold magic rushed over to him, and he shrunk instantaneously into a black, slightly feathered larva. Maleficent walked over to him, crouched down, and picked him up delicately between her thumb and index finger.

Diaval squirmed angrily. Maleficent laughed. "Oh, I suppose I have to carry you around with me so you aren't gobbled up by those awful _ravens, _now." He wriggled more in protest, but the faery only sighed and placed him into her palm. "Now I've got to wash off this _mess _you've made of my face."

More fidgeting from Diaval. _Was it apologetic?_ Maleficent chuckled. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm not fluent in mealie-worm squirms."

She crossed the short distance to the river and carefully set him down. "Don't go too far," she told him, "or else I won't be able to find you."

He moved his front half in reply, and inched away slowly.

Maleficent turned to the stream, filled her cupped hands with cool, crisp water, and began the slightly tedious process of scrubbing off the semi-dry mud from her sharp features. When her face was finally clean, she waited for the water to still again, and gazed at her reflection with interest.

Within seconds, the softly rippling mirror image of Maleficent morphed into something more sinister—a Maleficent with a black headdress and cloak warped in green flame stared spitefully back at her.

"_Well, well," _it sneered.

_This curse shall last until the end of time—_

_ —there is no way to escape—_

_ —no power on Earth—_

_ —I revoke my curse!—_

_ —can change it—_

_ —let it be known!_

And suddenly the messily knotted ball of guilt _unfurled _inside of her, its tendrils pulling at her veins and lashing against the sides of her body. Maleficent bit her lip and her throat jerked in an attempt to smother an excruciating wail that coiled in between her vocal chords. She tried to breathe, but only short bursts of air slipped through the prickling thorns that stabbed her esophagus.

Maleficent had not struggled with crying in a long, _long_ time.

She wrapped her fingers tightly around the blades of grass until her knuckles turned white, and turned her face away from the stream—

—_Sleep-like death!—_

_ —child of the dawn—_

_ —she is just a babe—_

_ —this curse shall last until—_

_ —there is evil in this world—_

_ —hatred, revenge—_

_ —it's _you!_—_

_ Stop! _the faery cried out in her mind, _please, _stop!

Her neck twisted back to the water. The dark reflection covered in green flame still remained.

_"I like you begging,"_ it laughed coldly. _"Do it again._"

* * *

Aurora was very restless that night.

Only three days had passed since she had arrived at the human kingdom, and already she wished to leave. After her outburst with the noble officials, Aurora began to grow slightly apprehensive. What if she angered them? What if they were going to retaliate against her?

She asked the only person in the castle that she trusted: the maid that came in regularly to clean her quarters.

_"I think you'll come to discover," she had murmured quietly, "that even though they may puff themselves up to seem powerful and influential, they are truly cowards at the heart."_

That relieved her enough to try to settle in for bed.

After the handmaidens helped her get out of her heavy dress, she politely dismissed them and slipped into her nightgown. Aurora was grateful for finally having some solitude, and exhaled a heavy sigh as she opened the doors to her balcony.

She could see the Moors from here. Against the dark canvas of the night sky dotted with stars, the Moors emitted a glow composed of cool hues. The Queen closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and for a moment, the earthy, natural smell of the Moors filled her senses, and she was back at the little creek with the dancing water nymphs, leaning into Maleficent's warm chest.

_Maleficent._

Aurora tried to picture the faery against her, encasing her with strong, soft wings—and she could feel her, for a second or two—and in those few seconds, she felt at peace.

She was drawn out of her tranquility when a cold, biting gust of wind sunk its teeth into her skin. She jumped out of her daydream and clasped her arms to her sides, hurried inside, and closed the doors behind her.

_I just need to rest,_ Aurora thought tiredly, _tomorrow is always a new day._

* * *

Sounds of battle reverberated off of the stone walls of the castle.

_"Run, Aurora!" _Maleficent screamed. _"Run!"_

Aurora, barely able to bear to see Maleficent tortured with iron without being able to stop it, ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn't know where she was going—she had never even been in the castle before. All she knew was that Maleficent wanted her safe, and if she knew she was safe, she might have a chance at winning this fight.

She quickly opened the first door that she saw and ran inside. Her heart was pumping blood infused with distress and panic, and the sides of her vision blurred as she leaned against a wall.

_Breathe. Remember to breathe._

With a deep inhale, she slowed her heart and focused on what lay before her.

Maleficent's wings, trapped in a cage.

The castle's stone walls and floors carried sound well.

Aurora heard the unified banging of metal shields on the ground.

Dread slowly rose in her chest again. _I will get her wings back._

She approached the back of the cage, braced her hands against it, and pushed with all the strength she had.

The cage did not budge.

The wings began to beat frantically against the sides of the cage, wishing to return to their rightful place. Sticky sweat coated Aurora's palms as tears trickled down her face. _I'm trying!_

The thumping sounds that filled the air as the wings thrashed in the confined space reminded her of a feathery heart, of lungs trying to expand and break free.

_I will get her wings back._

Aurora gathered more strength than she knew she had—she called upon every fiber of her muscles and tissues, every ounce of emotional willpower she could—and _pushed_, _pushed _with everything she could muster, _and more._

The cage did not budge.

_"No!" _she cried, panic rising with her heart rate, and she banged with her fists on the glass of the confining box; she didn't care if she cut her hands. She didn't care how much she bled.

The glass did not break.

Horror pulled down on all her organs as she tried in vain to free Maleficent's wings. They beat against the cage wildly, increasingly growing more desperate to reach their owner—

—a ear-splitting scream imbedded itself in every ear, and the wings fell limp.

Aurora collapsed to her knees.

_"MALEFICENT!"_

* * *

Aurora clutched the sheets with white knuckles, her eyes darting around the room frantically with fear. _Where is she?! _Aurora thought with terror, _Where? Where is Maleficent?_

The handmaidens burst into her room, worry and concern etched into their faces.

"My Queen—"

"Your Majesty—!"

"Queen Aurora—!"

All Aurora could do was try to swallow her panic down her dry throat as they gathered around her bed.

"We thought—"

"Your Majesty, your scream—"

"You woke up all of the servants—"

"Enough," Aurora said, quavering. "Where…"

The handmaidens looked at her urgently.

The Queen didn't have enough strength to finish her sentence. She worked on steadying her breathing instead, and for a moment, she almost forgot that the maidens were around her.

One of them finally spoke. "Your Grace, you…you screamed Maleficent's name in your sleep—" she looked at the others anxiously, "—are you alright?"

Aurora blinked. She didn't understand anything they were saying to her; she was too stunned with shock and terror to respond.

The handmaiden that spoke for the rest wrung her hands together. "Get her some lavender tea, girls."

Aurora shook her head. "No…no lavender tea."

The servant's eyes flashed with concern. "If I may, your Majesty, I think that something soothing would do you good—"

"Get me my horse."

"I'm sorry, my Queen, but is that a good idea? It's the wee hours—"

Aurora rose from her bed and insisted, _"Get me my horse. Get me my cloak."_

The handmaidens exchanged looks. "As—as you wish, Queen Aurora."

* * *

Aurora left the castle in the middle of the night.

As her horse galloped across the fields, only one word continued to cross her mind:

_Maleficent._

* * *

The tangling branches of thorns crept into Maleficent's throat as she gazed down at Aurora's sleeping form. _"I will not ask you for forgiveness."_

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hold back the tears that trailed down her pale cheeks. "What I have done is unforgivable…I was so lost in hatred and revenge—" she frowned as memories of green flame crept in the corners of her mind, "—I never dreamed that I could love you so much. You stole what was left of my heart…

…and now I've lost you forever."

Heavy tears dripped off of her jaw line and fell onto her chest. She flinched at the unfamiliar feeling, and it only propelled Maleficent into her regret and sorrow more.

_And not a day shall pass that I won't miss your smile.  
_

Maleficent leaned in to kiss Aurora's temple.

She rose and turned to Diaval, who looked at her with dark, sympathetic eyes.

Aurora did not awaken.

_"I told you," _Maleficent whimpered, _"I told you it does not exist."_

* * *

Maleficent grabbed onto the branches of her tree as she bolted upright from her sleep. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized that she had been dreaming—

—but a maggot of fear wormed its way into her heart, and the only word that she could mouth silently was—

_"Aurora."_

* * *

A great gust of wind flung the doors of the balcony open.

Only a gust that strong could be created by one creature:

_Maleficent._

The handmaidens instinctively clustered together with fear of the faery that towered over them. Her grand wings folded against her back and twitched involuntarily.

"_Where is she?"_ Maleficent questioned anxiously, golden-green eyes darting around the room.

A handmaiden stammered: "S—she left naught but a few minutes ago—"

_"Where?"_

The handmaiden trembled. "T—t—to the Moors—to look for you."

Maleficent didn't reply. Upon the servant's stuttering response, she had already rushed back outside and leaped off the balcony, extending her wings to catch the next current.

With supreme grace, Maleficent took flight, wide wings spread across the starry night sky. If others saw her dark silhouette, they would have figured she was a demon—a horned, terrible beast.

If Aurora saw her dark silhouette crossing the midnight sky, she would have thought it was an angel.

* * *

Aurora could barely see.

It didn't help that it was the dead of night. With tears already blurring her vision, all she could tell was the direction she was headed—vaguely.

All she knew was that it was _east_ to the Moors, and when her mount began the familiar path through the fields, she knew that she was on track.

There was one word that would not stop falling across her lips.

_"Oh, Maleficent," _she whispered shakily, _"Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent."_

The words caught upon the coils of air and wrapped themselves around her before letting go.

* * *

_"Oh, Maleficent…"_

Maleficent's head snapped to attention. She _heard _that. _She heard her name_.

_That was Aurora's voice_.

Bringing her wings a bit closer to her body, she shot like an arrow through the air in the direction of the whispers that entangled themselves in her ears.

_"Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent…"_

The faery spotted her.

She was on her horse, galloping across the field that joined the human kingdom and the Moors. Overcome with relief, Maleficent angled herself downward and headed right for Aurora.

* * *

Aurora heard the great wing-beats before she saw Maleficent.

She turned towards the familiar, comforting sound, and her heart swelled with respite as she saw the faery flying towards her—

—but confusion tinged her thoughts when Maleficent did not land.

Strong, elegant arms wrapped around her chest, and Aurora closed her eyes and clutched to the figure that carried her, legs instinctively wrapping around Maleficent's waist. The wing-beats did not stop, and when Aurora finally opened her eyes, she saw what had been done.

They were airborne, and Maleficent had plunged from high altitudes, skillfully swept her off of her horse, and now grasped her as they hovered in midair.

She buried her face into the crook of Maleficent's neck and let go.

Long, delicate fingers wove themselves into Aurora's hair. She felt Maleficent's cheek rest on top of her head, and Aurora only held on tighter to the only thing that she trusted with her whole heart—the only _person _that she trusted to take her off of something secure—the earth—and support her in a place that she could fall—_the air._

_ Maleficent._

Another sob wracked her body.

_They never faltered—not even once._

"Maleficent—" she cried as she dug her nails into the faery's back, "—I thought—I saw—your _wings_—you—_oh, Maleficent—_"

_"Shh…"_ Maleficent murmured quietly, her whisper quavering, "_be still, my little beastie."_

Aurora withdrew her face from Maleficent's neck and cupped her cheeks tenderly, brushing her thumbs across the faery's prominent cheekbones.

Maleficent shuddered, and Aurora felt it.

Aurora's lower lip trembled. "I couldn't save you," she croaked. "I—I ran—you told me to run and—"

Maleficent bit the inside of her cheek, and weakly commanded the prickling black thorns sprouting in her throat to disappear.

_"I couldn't save you,"_ Aurora repeated softly, voice cracking, "your wings—the cage wouldn't break and—" she took a deep, uneven breath, "—you _died_, Maleficent. I heard your scream and your wings stopped moving in the cage and you_—"_

Maleficent placed a kiss on Aurora's forehead. _"Shh, beastie…"_

When Maleficent's lips touched her brow, something _fuzzy_ spread through Aurora's body. And not just her body, _her soul—_it was like her whole _being _reacted to it.

Aurora suddenly realized how close she and the faery were, and realized that her own heartbeat was in tune with the great wing-beats that held them aloft.

"I just—" Aurora whispered nearly inaudibly, "I just needed to come here, to get out of that suffocating castle, and I needed to know that you were still _here_—"

_"Me too, beastie,"_ Maleficent whispered, fingers lacing soothingly through Aurora's hair, _"me, too."_


	7. Chapter 7

Aurora wrapped her arms tighter around Maleficent. "I can't go back to that castle. I—" she took another shaky breath, "—I can't be far from you." Her eyes locked with the faery's. "Not now."

They were still suspended in the air. Aurora wasn't sure how long they had been there…did this only last for a few seconds? Thirty minutes? Hours?

Either way, she was surprised that Maleficent could support her in flight for this long.

"I know," Maleficent murmured, and then quieter: "I can't be far from you, either."

"Are you tired?" Aurora asked gently. "We can go back to the Moors…"

Maleficent shook her head. "I'm afraid that's too great a distance for me to carry you, beastie. I'm not used to holding others with me on my flights."

Aurora rested her chin on Maleficent's shoulder, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply—she smelled of the _earth _and the _wind _and the _sky—_

Maleficent hummed. "I have an idea, beastie."

All at once, Aurora's thoughts vanished. Her ear was pressed up against the side of Maleficent's neck, and for her mind to suddenly be filled with the raw _vibrations _of her soft, beautiful voice—

—those vibrations _resounded _all throughout Aurora's body, both flesh and soul, and her entire being shuddered again.

She inhaled audibly, barely able to place pieces of a sentence together in her mind. "What is it?"

Strong wings flapped faster as they flew towards the edge of the field. Aurora peered through the darkness and tried to determine where they were headed; all she could see was a great, twisting silhouette.

They slowed as they approached the outline, and as they grew closer, Aurora discovered it was a tree—a tree with large, thick branches that curled up into the air. Maleficent retracted the hand in Aurora's hair (much to her disappointment) and performed a quick gesture with her fingers.

Aurora lifted her head and watched as golden, glistening magic drifted from Maleficent's slender hand and towards the tree. _Crack, crack, crack—_three broad branches entwined themselves together to form a curved platform—another flick of Maleficent's wrist—and a layer of soft leaves covered the rough bark.

Maleficent's face did not change, but her golden-green eyes shone in the darkness. "It will do."

* * *

When they settled in the makeshift bed, Aurora did not let go of Maleficent.

She leaned in closer to the faery and placed her hand under Maleficent's wings. The faery tensed slightly, but Aurora only placed her forehead in the crook of Maleficent's neck and sighed. "I just need to be close to you," she whispered, trembling, "I need to be reminded that you're still here—" she paused as the ear-splitting scream echoed in her thoughts, "—I need to be reminded that you're still _alive_."

Maleficent brushed away a stray bundle of hair from Aurora's face and murmured, "I understand."

* * *

And Maleficent truly understood, for she was overcome with the same nightmarish fear that Aurora spoke of.

She was grateful, then, that Aurora could be so close to her as she was now.

* * *

_"No power on earth…I revoke my curse…"_

_ "Aurora…"_

_ "Let it be known…"_

_"I…"_

Aurora's eyes fluttered open to the quiet, distraught whispers of Maleficent. At first, she didn't know where she was, but then she remembered—

_—at the edge of the field, in a great, old tree, in a makeshift bed with—_

_ —Maleficent._

The faery's eyes were closed, and her eyebrows creased into an expression of distress. Her wings twitched frequently as she murmured broken sentences her sleep.

_"Let it be known…"_

_ "I will not ask…"_

_ "Revoke…"_

_ "Your forgiveness…"_

Aurora bit her lip and whispered very softly, "_Maleficent…"_

The faery didn't wake, and her wings trembled more urgently, rustling the leaves of the bed.

_"Not a day shall pass…"_

_ "A sleep-like death…"_

_ "I revoke…"_

Aurora, louder this time: "_Maleficent."_

The faery's eyes snapped open.

In just a few seconds, Aurora witnessed the strife that plagued Maleficent and embedded itself into her beautiful, golden-green irises.

Maleficent's pupils shrunk to the size of needle-points, and her entire body heaved as she gasped desperately for air, as if she was being strangled by knotted limbs—

It all suddenly came together in Aurora's mind. _Guilt._

_That _was the disgusting, alien _thing_ Aurora first noticed something awry in Maleficent. _That _was the _thing _that caused Maleficent's wings to involuntarily twitch, that caused her to always keep her emotions to herself—always discomforted, always on edge.

And in that moment, Aurora saw pure, unbridled _terror_ carve itself into Maleficent's elegant face and inject itself into her veins.

Maleficent's hands balled themselves into tight fists as she bolted upright—

—but Aurora caught her by her shoulder and steadily, gently said—

_"Maleficent, I'm right here."_

The muscles in the faery's neck strained painfully, and her wings quivered uncontrollably. She didn't respond, and for a second Aurora could imagine black, thorny tendrils growing around Maleficent's form.

_"Maleficent_," she repeated, _"I'm right here."_

All at once, Maleficent's muscles relaxed, and she hid her gaze under her lashes.

"You dreamt about the curse, didn't you?"

Maleficent could only muster a weak nod.

"Here," Aurora whispered, "lie down with me."

With a nearly inaudible sigh, Maleficent did so. Aurora brought a hand to Maleficent's chestnut hair and ran her small fingers through it, and tenderly let her fingers pass over the base of Maleficent's horns.

Wings twitched, but Aurora couldn't tell if it was from contentment or nervousness.

"It was a dream," she reassured soothingly, "I'm here. It was just a dream."

Silence.

Aurora closed her eyes and rested her head atop Maleficent's chest. _I will wait. _

_I will always wait._

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

With one ear against Maleficent's chest, the faery's heartbeat pulsed through Aurora, serving as a steady cadence for her thoughts. _Her wings were trapped, and so was her heart. Her wings returned, and her heart did the same…_

_Then why was it the captive of guilt?_

Aurora dwelled on this for a long time, and eventually she could not distinguish the difference between the sound of Maleficent's heartbeat and the memory of beating wings.

_ Like a feathery, thumping heart…like a pair lungs wishing to expand, longing to breathe…_

And then, she _knew_.

_Aurora understood._

* * *

They both knew that neither of them was going to fall asleep anytime soon. Aurora could pick up on Maleficent's restlessness, and Maleficent could feel Aurora's fingers still slowly tracing around the base of her horns and running gently through her long hair. And as Aurora continued her tender, caressing touches, the guilt that crawled under Maleficent's skin gradually began to dissipate.

But it did not disappear.

Maleficent's gaze wandered upwards, and weaved through the branches that crisscrossed over their heads and into the night sky. The full moon sat directly above them, its pale, washy light falling delicately in between the limbs of the tree and upon their faces.

Her eyes drifted over to Aurora. The moonlight reflected off of her pale, golden hair with a soft, ethereal glow, and the shadows of the branches above them slowly swayed over her form. Her eyes were closed, but she was not asleep; Maleficent could see her eyes shifting underneath her eyelids, as if she were contemplating something in her mind.

Heavens above, she was _beautiful._

Heat rushed to Maleficent's face as she realized where her thoughts had wandered, and she tried to avert her gaze away from Aurora, only hoping that she didn't notice her heart beating slightly faster in her chest.

Maleficent's dismay sprouted as Aurora's eyelids lifted, but immediately stopped as she caught a glimpse of her eyes—her pure, intricate blue irises that the moonlight danced so gracefully in.

"You have taught me much about love, Maleficent."

The statement was said with such honest simplicity that Maleficent couldn't find words to respond. It seemed that those few words caused a thousand thoughts to erupt in Maleficent's mind, and there were so many of them that she could not discern what she was feeling.

Through many years of practice, Maleficent was always able to retain her ever-constant, elegant, conservative composure. Through years of practice, Maleficent was able to always distinguish her emotions with clarity.

Why was it that around Aurora, all of those things changed?

Finally, the faery managed, "Have I?"

"Yes." There was a pause, and Maleficent didn't mind. Aurora was gathering her thoughts—and she herself was trying to sort hers.

"You have taught me that love comes through adversity. When—" she faltered, as if the memory caused her as much pain as it did Maleficent, "—when your wings were taken, you were hurt. Badly. Sorrow and regret got a hold of you, and you sought out something of an equivalent value to take away from King Stefan—" (Maleficent mentally noted here that Aurora did not refer to him as her father) "—to cause him as much pain as he caused you, to show him what it felt like to have something so cherished stolen away."

Maleficent's whole body stiffened as she listened, unmoving, without a word.

Aurora whispered, "And that something was me."

The faery chewed at the inside of her lip as thorns prickled at the corners of her eyes. _Oh, how she regretted it so._

"But I am not angry," Aurora murmured. "I have never been angry, because I know that you grew to love me, even though you cursed me as a baby and hated how Stefan could have something so wonderful after he took away something that was worth the same.

"Love grew in your adversity, Maleficent. And now I know that it sprouts in the unlikeliest of places, and makes us able to bear the pain."

A tendril from her ball of guilt slowly unraveled, and a talon that clutched her heart gradually pried itself off.

Maleficent was about to speak, but she quickly discovered that Aurora was not finished.

"You have taught me that love overcomes strife." Aurora removed her fingers from Maleficent's hair and placed it on the faery's hands, which rested atop her stomach. "When you fought for my protection in the castle, even though you were surrounded by iron, I knew that you were driven by love to keep me safe…" her voice grew low, "…and I knew that I had to release your wings to save you, to make you whole again, because I care for you."

Aurora began to trace little circles over Maleficent's knuckles. "Love conquers conflict, and it mends the wounds."

Another thrashing piece of guilt gradually pacified in Maleficent's mind, and another clawed finger lifted from her heart.

"You have taught me that because of love, forgiveness comes quickly." Aurora's eyes closed as she spoke. "When—when Knotgrass and Thistlewit and Flittle told me of my curse, and I discovered that it had been placed by you—" she took a deep breath to steady herself, "I grew afraid, and I lashed out at you, and _ran _from the only person that had cared enough to watch over me in the shadows for sixteen years. But as soon as I left and went to the castle, and as soon as I threw myself into Stefan's arms, and did not feel him hug me back—" she paused, and Maleficent held on to every word, "—I felt terrible. I thought of the pain I caused you.

"I realized what a fool I had been," Aurora whispered, trembling, "and in my mind, I apologized to you, _over_ and _over_ and _over _again."

Maleficent blinked. _Aurora wanted to apologize to _me? She felt the sharp talon of another finger of guilt ease off of her heart, and even though they all weren't gone, she felt as though her heart was _truly _beginning to beat again.

Suddenly, the faery became aware of Aurora continuing to map out circles on her knuckles, and her skin tingled with—_what was that?_

Her mind was too muddled to discern it.

"Ever since my awakening three years ago," Aurora said quietly, "I have come to grasp the idea that there are many kinds of true love."

The faery silently urged her to continue.

Aurora spoke softly, her words hanging delicately on the branches of the tree and the rays of moonlight. "And for the longest time, I tried to figure out what our love was."

Maleficent's breath caught in her throat.

It came out, clear and simple. _"I love you, Maleficent."_

Somehow, Maleficent found the ability to breathe again, and her heart rate doubled in her chest. Those basic words cleansed her mind of all the tangled confusion of thoughts, and finally, _finally_, it dawned on Maleficent.

She was jolted out of her revelation when Aurora laced her fingers with the faery's. A small, airy giggle bubbled from Aurora's chest.

"Your heart is beating fast."

Heat rushed to Maleficent's cheeks as she felt her heartbeat triple in speed, and she turned her head away shyly. Upon realizing that Aurora's ear was still pressed to her chest and she could still hear her heart beating even faster, more embarrassment ran up to Maleficent's face.

_Damnit, _how was Aurora able to undo her like that with just a few words?

Deep blue eyes flecked with the reflection of silver moonlight met hers, and Aurora lifted her head as she propped herself up on one arm. Her delicate hands tenderly cupped Maleficent's face, and her thumbs ghosted over her cheekbones.

From just that small touch, burning fire shot through Maleficent's body and soul, and her wings shuddered with delight.

As Maleficent's golden-green eyes locked with Aurora's, she found herself completely unable to move—never before had she been absolutely _stunned _by another person's _grace_ and _kindness_ and _beauty_—

and_ love._

Aurora's index finger started a trail beginning at Maleficent's pointed ear and went down, over the side of her face and atop her jawline—Maleficent's wings flitted uncontrollably as more heat tingled under her skin. She never would have believed that such simple, gentle touches could unwind _and _wind her up at the same time.

It was a beautifully _torturous_ thing, but Maleficent knew it was Aurora's decision to make.

Aurora brought her lips to Maleficent's forehead and placed a subtle, chaste kiss there.

Maleficent's heart flew up into the air as fast as it crashed down again. The sensation caused by Aurora's lips was indescribable—it created wonderful tremors that shook her body, but disappointment quickly took over as Maleficent's thoughts filled with slight discontent. _Were they not thinking of the same love?_

Aurora drew back and searched the faery's eyes, and then Maleficent spotted a flash of amusement dart across her blue irises. Did her disappointment show that easily?

Through years of experience, Maleficent was able to show the emotions that she only wanted people to see, and in Aurora's presence, that skill was completely useless.

Maleficent caught Aurora's gaze flicker down to her lips, and her breath hitched.

_Some things just didn't need to be spoken._

Soft strands of golden hair brushed against Maleficent's chest as Aurora leaned in, slowly closing the gap between them.

Maleficent closed her eyes, but when she didn't feel anything for a few seconds, she opened them again in confusion.

She was close.

_So close_.

_"Kiss me, Maleficent."_

Upon those three words, _everything _in Maleficent's mind—all doubt, all worry—_dispelled._

Maleficent's gaze did not leave Aurora's as she lifted her hand and anchored her fingers in Aurora's hair. Maleficent's gaze did not leave Aurora's as her trembling fingers curled a stray lock of gold behind Aurora's ear. Maleficent's gaze did not leave Aurora's as their noses touched.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and ruby lips parted and gently pressed against Aurora's.

_And suddenly, Maleficent's mind, body, and soul _seared _with white fire._

It raced through every vein, every muscle, every fiber that composed her—up her horns, _down _her horns, around her throat—it gathered in her palms, tingled around her lungs, her back, her _wings_—

And it went straight to her heart, and burned away all the guilt that remained until it was naught but a pile of white ash.

When their lips finally separated, Maleficent hardly noticed the tears that rolled down her cheeks. All she knew was _Aurora_, and _Aurora's lips, _and _Aurora was hers, _and her guilt was _gone._ She felt as though she could take to the sky without feeling weighed down, as though she could fly forever. She felt weightless, unstoppable, unconquerable_, invincible—_

_ She was truly, truly free._

Maleficent opened her eyes to see Aurora, _her Aurora_, looking upon her with such untainted love that she shivered and tightened her grip in Aurora's hair, and she wanted to repeat it all over again—to _kiss_ and _kiss_ and _kiss_ until she lost herself, until she only felt Aurora and no one else, until it could become all she would ever know.

Aurora pressed her forehead against the faery's and whispered, "I love you,_ sera."_

Maleficent couldn't restrain herself any longer. She tugged Aurora's lips to hers and kissed _hard_, tasting the salt from her own tears, reveling in the contact she had distanced herself from for so long.

_This is where I am meant to be, _Maleficent thought as she embraced all of Aurora, all her soft, caressing touches and beautiful lips, _she is my sera,_

_And I am hers._


	8. Chapter 8

Aurora had waited. She had waited through the still moments by the brook with the water nymphs. She had waited through the silent evening walks that they took through the Moors. She had waited through the trips back to the human kingdom. She had waited through the nightmares, through the panic.

And now she did not need to wait any longer.

As soon as their lips touched, Aurora felt Maleficent's entire being stretch free, as though many weights and chains had been thrown off victoriously and the faery _truly _embraced her with all the unrestrained love that she desired.

She could have stayed there forever, in Maleficent's arms, raining delicate kisses over every inch of her skin. She could have stayed there forever, clutching Maleficent's flowing chestnut hair as they locked lips with fervent passion.

She could have stayed there forever, losing herself in Maleficent's incredible golden eyes flecked with emerald green. She could have, she could have, _she could have, _and oh, how she _wished_ to do so, but she was not a naïve child any more—she knew even the greatest of nights have their ends.

Instead, she focused on memorizing _this _moment, so that on the days when life would not treat her well, she could remember, and be _happy._

They broke a kiss for air, and Maleficent traced a path with her slender fingers down the side of Aurora's petite face. _"Aurora…"_ she breathed, and her hand trembled.

A light chuckle escaped from Aurora's chest. "You haven't said my name in what feels like years. I was afraid you had forgotten it, with you calling me _beastie_ all the time."

Maleficent took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "That's because your name carried so many memories for me, and to even hear myself say it was like reliving it all over again a thousand times." Her eyes opened again, and a thumb stroked Aurora's cheek. "But now it's different," she murmured, "and your name is like a birdsong, simple and beautiful to my ears."

Caressing touches found their way to Maleficent's horns. "Say it again for me, Maleficent."

Her name danced gracefully on Maleficent's deep, silky voice. _"Aurora."_ The faery gave a genuine smile, and trapped the name in between their lips.

_"Aurora."_

* * *

Eventually, Aurora ended up lying on top of Maleficent, her head tucked snuggly under the faery's chin. Maleficent's wings wrapped around them both and encased them completely in a soft blanket of feathers. She reached her hands behind the faery's back and stroked their joints carefully, and every few minutes, Maleficent would release a small hum of delight.

"Oh _dear_." Maleficent's voice hinted at a speck of mischief.

"What is it?"

The faery chuckled. "I may or may not have accidentally forgotten to turn Diaval back into a raven."

Aurora smiled. "Well, what is he now?"

More soft chuckles fell past Maleficent's lips before she finally managed, "A mealie-worm."

The two erupted into a bundle of giggles, and Aurora lifted her head in amused disbelief. "You're not serious?"

Maleficent nodded her head, and more sun-like laughter radiated out from Aurora. "Well," she whispered as she planted a small, quick kiss on Maleficent's nose, "he can wait a little bit longer."

* * *

When sleep overtook both of them, Aurora had a dream.

She dreamt that she was standing on the very edge of the highest cliff in the Moors, barefooted, weaving her ticklish toes through the blades of bright green grass. Here, the horizon seemed to last forever in all directions, and she could see nothing but the beautifully burning red-orange sky and the clouds that reflected its fiery colors underneath their great bellies. She breathed in deeply, and reveled in the smell of the _earth _and _wind_ and—

A horned silhouette with great, powerful, unfaltering wings cut through the air, and Aurora watched her _sera _gracefully display her freedom for hours: she sliced through the white, misty clouds; she dove down like a swan, and then shot upwards as though she was breaking the surface; she twisted and twirled, creating some sort of physical representation of everything _joyful_.

And Aurora did not worry when one, singular, iron lance screamed through the air, for she knew Maleficent was now true to herself, and she would not waver. She would not weaken. She would not fear.

Aurora cheered as Maleficent deftly caught the shaft of the lance in her hand, snapped it over her knee, and banished both broken, defeated pieces to the ground. Performing aerial flips in triumph, Malefient's wings proudly reflected rays of light in a thousand iridescent colors, and Aurora beamed like the sun that began its descent below the horizon.

The faery flew over to the edge of the cliff and hovered there, the wind created by her beating wings gently blowing golden strands of hair away from Aurora's face. Her red lips curled into a smile, something that always made Aurora's heart swell, and invited her closer with golden-green eyes.

Aurora took one step, wrapping her arms and legs around Maleficent's form—and they floated there, just off of what felt like the face of the Earth. Instinctively, her head tucked itself under Maleficent's chin and she sighed contentedly, embracing the warmth the faery's body emitted and the soothing cadence of the beating of wings.

_This is where I am meant to be, _Aurora thought as she placed a kiss on Maleficent's cheek, _she is my sera,_

_ And I am hers._

* * *

"_This love shall last until the end of time_

_ And no power on Earth can change it."_


End file.
